


Maker, he wants to kiss him

by Willia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Kissing, M/M, but i deserve it, that’s it, they kiss and I’m a happy boi, this is so stupid and self indulgent my dudes, uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willia/pseuds/Willia
Summary: Zevran talks with his hands, laughing at his own jokes, his hair loose and shining in the fireplace’s light.Alistair has stopped listening a while ago.





	Maker, he wants to kiss him

Zevran talks with his hands, laughing at his own jokes, his hair loose and shining in the fireplace’s light.

Alistair has stopped listening a while ago.

It’s just the two of them now, the rest of their companions having gone to their bedrooms for some rest before they fight the Archdemon’s army, and the buzz of the ale isn’t helping Alistair focus. Nor is that smile that Zevran has, wide and relaxed, nor the way he looks at Alistair as he talks with a glee that expects nothing in return, and... _Maker_ , he wants to kiss him.

Zevran stops in the middle of a sentence, mouth open. The faintest of blush dusts his cheeks as he blinks and smiles slowly. “Do you now?”

_Oh._

_So that was out loud._

Alistair slaps a hand on his mouth, but then he drops it just as fast, clutching the bench next to his thigh. His eyes drift to the dancing flames.

_Ah, Blight._

“Between Riordan, Brosca and me,” he says, “I have a one in three chances of dying tomorrow.” He closes his eyes. His voice drops to a murmur. “And all I can think of is how often I’ve wanted to kiss you, and how I might never get to do it.”

A log cracks in the fireplace, the noise of tumbling wood echoing, reassuringly familiar, in Alistair’s ears. He opens his eyes when he feels the warmth of the fire being obstructed. Zevran is standing in front of him, eyes crinkled in amusement, and before Alistair can say anything there’s a hand on his jaw and lips on his.

He’s vaguely aware of Zevran shifting to put a knee next to his thigh on the bench, lowering himself closer and tilting his head. He follows.

He’s not quite sure of what’s happening. There’s lips and teeth and then his tongue, and he feels sparks of slow arousal spread through his body. He’s hyperaware of Zevran’s fingers moving to the back of his head, cupping it, pushing into the hair he hasn’t had time to cut. He doesn’t think his heart’s ever beaten that fast, even in combat. It thrums in his ears until it’s all he can hear, and then Zevran brings his other hand to his chest and chuckles against his lips and Alistair thinks he might die right here.

He realises he’s gathered Zevran’s tunic in his hands, and he mindlessly pulls him closer. Zevran follows smoothly, shifting his weight, pulling onto Alistair’s shoulders, and then he’s straddling his hips.

Well. That wasn’t the intended goal, but Alistair’s not going to complain.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs before he can think, and something tenses on Zevran’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he finds his lips again, and Alistair is certain he’s doing this all wrong, but Zevran growls against his mouth and he feels his heart stutter. He clutches Zevran’s hips, fingers digging into the flesh of their own volition.

Zevran hisses as he presses closer. “Do you want this?” he asks, and Alistair could swear his voice isn’t usually that low.

“Yes.”

Zevran rocks gently against him. “Do you want _me_?”

Alistair nods hurriedly. “Maker, yes.” His voice doesn’t feel like his voice.

Zevran kisses him again, deep and possessive, and Alistair pulls away when he feels a sudden panic squeeze his lungs. “Wait.” He shakes his head. “I’ve, I’ve never–” He stops, closing his eyes tightly, unsure of how he’s supposed to phrase it. He only opens them when he feels another hand on his jaw, tilting his head up.

Zevran is smiling down at him, one of his smaller, more secret smiles. “I know.” His thumb swipes lazily at Alistair’s bottom lip, and then he moves away and gets up with a surprising grace. He extends a hand.

“Come to my rooms. We’ll make it fun, yes?”


End file.
